


There's No Place Like Home

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Heterosexual Sex, Humor, Humorous Ending, Polyamory Mention, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The emotions from their past once again grow their bond in the present, bringing them together in their favorite way as they keep one another young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you freeagentgirl for once again editing. Inspired by the videos Misha posted April 16th 2016.
> 
> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

 

 

Misha’s getting older. He doesn't remember outings to spend time with his family wearing him out like it has today.  He swigs the amber liquid from the bottle, pressing the glass to his lips and swallowing it slowly.  The sun has set, the sky growing dark. Crickets are emerging, a car passes along the street in front of the house.

 

He sighs, looking out at the yard where the mess has now been cleaned and put away. Their baking challenge was successful. The mess, epic. Thank god they did it outside or he’d have been cleaning the kitchen for the rest of the week, he’s sure of it.

 

He runs a hand through his hair, the light above the door behind him illuminating their yard as he basks in the quiet. He never used to be like this, never used to like the quiet because it reminded him that he was once lonely. Years of working away from home however, of trying to stay on top of what little sleep he could when he was gone amidst his work chaos, has made him come to yearn for it. He likes the quiet. It’s the only way he misses the noise and insanity of his children, misses the mess and the crazy. Without it, without the balance between his two worlds, he's not so sure he would be able to always do what they do with a smile. He'd probably be one of those parents who just looked wrung out and done all the time, where he’d come to be bitter about his schedule, drop out of the festivities and cons. Hide away, perhaps. Misha deeply breathes in the smell of spring around him, his clean cotton shirt and the smell of laundry soap.

 

There's a whole world full of memories from today he will never forget. Pictures, video and one of them all laughing, of him laughing and Vicki side eyeing him with warning but her eyes gleaming with amusement, looking young. He smiles as he chuckles softly when he recalls it, his heart once again skipping in his chest for her, for his wonderful, amazing Vicki. Oh, how he was so grateful that after all this time, there were still random moments of playfulness between them that he would hold in his heart forever.

 

Misha looks down at his feet, toes curling on the ground as he inspects the flower bed beside him. He plucks one of the flowers, stroking the petal between his fingers when the door opens with a small creak. He makes a note to fix that before he goes again.

 

_Speak of the devil._

 

Vicki softens when she sees him, wondering where he had vanished to when the movie started. She sinks down beside him, her head laying against his shoulder as he slips his arm around her. He places the small flower in her palm and leans into her. She strokes it affectionately.

 

She sighs as she relaxes, once again soaking in everything about her husband that had been missing from their home. “I’m so glad this only happens when you’re home.”

 

He laughs softly before pressing his lips into her soft black curls, “I keep you young sweetheart. Without me, whatever would you do for excitement?”

 

She snorts into his chest as she moves closer to him, “You mean non-sexually, right?”

 

He pretends to look wounded, “I’m your best partner! Without me you’d be bored and lonely. Who else is just going to say ‘Yes, my lady’ and go along with all your sexually deviant plans, hmm?”

 

She chuckles but nuzzles into him deeper, embraces his warmth “You make a good point.” As she traces a circle in the middle of his chest with her finger, a pause passes between them. “You’re my everything, Misha. I’d be so lost without you.”

 

He squeezes her, pulls her close, his bicep flexing as she pushes into him, into his chest and neck, “I don't know what I’d ever do without you, Victoria. I wouldn't be me anymore, I’d lose myself. Honest,” he gestures her to face him, her eyes bright as she looks up at him. He smiles warmly, eyes a brilliant sky blue and always like she remembers them the first time they met. “I love you.”

 

She beams, swells with affection for him “I love you too...even if you’re a little crazy.”

 

He rolls his eyes at her, “That was all you. You planted your wicked little seed and watered it till it bloomed. Not my fault I’m all wrapped up and stuck in your vines now,” he smiles warmly, “You trained me well. What can I say?”

 

She chuckles as he brings her to him, his free hand setting down the beer bottle he’d been holding, before winding it in the back of her hair. Her hair falls freely as they sit inches from one another's face. He misses her always wearing it down, how long and colorful it used to be. She turns to straddle his lap before their lips meet, bodies pressed together.

 

She tastes like the wine from dinner, the sharpness of it mixing with the taste he’ll always associate with home. Her. Her lips are soft and warm and nothing in all the years of his life is ever better than coming home and being like this. Being together in the best way they can be, open and exposed, free.

 

Her arms slide around his neck, her nails stroking at the back of his hair gently. He shivers, shifting against the stair to accommodate her weight and bring her closer. She sighs into his mouth as he captures her again, his arm sliding around to her hip, down to rest on the underside of her curved backside. She shivers.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you so much.” Their foreheads press together gently before she cups his cheek, her face flushed as his fingers stroke at her gently.

 

“I could say the same thing about you, my love,” she murmurs against his lips, kissing them again quickly, before smiling.

 

His eyes wander down her body. His breath hitches for a moment before he buries his lips into the creamy skin of her neck, her pulse beating there steadily when he kisses her, reminding him that _he's_ the one doing that to her after all this time, after being her first and her his.   _It’s still him to quicken her like this. She's still here clinging to him, wanting him._

 

She gasps when he finds the spot, roughly grabbing a fist of hair as he leaves a bruising suck into the underside of her jaw. She bucks forwards.   _After all this time, she still loves me without fail._

 

He chuckles darkly, “Nice to know I’m not losing my touch, even now.”

 

Vicki groans, “You always have me going, darling,” she breathes deeply, “Now take me inside, we have new bed sheets that could use a good breaking in...”

 

Misha moans into her ear when she strokes the inside of his thigh, “Anything for you. Always.”

 

She sinks into him, legs around his waist as he stands. It's effortless to carry her like this and he loves this part, loves feeling the power, her want and her excitement.  The part where he gets to remind her of all the ways he loves her, and she gets to do the same for him.

 

They pause outside the bedroom. He leans her into the wall, her back against it as they gaze at their children. They fell asleep sitting together on West’s bed with the tablet, their movie still playing but both of them propped against the pillow, Maison’s head on her brother’s shoulder. They’re so sweet when they want to be.

 

“Guess we wore them out, hmm?” he laughs into her shoulder as she strokes through his hair.

 

“It’s nice to know we’re not as old as we feel sometimes,” he replies, watching the rise and fall of their chests, their bodies spread out like starfish, limbs against one another. “I don’t know how you keep up to them all the time when I’m not here.”

 

“I have you to keep me young, Misha, to keep my heart full of laughter and a drive to learn more.” She captures his lips in another kiss, this one full of urgency and desire. He pushes her into the wall, pressing them together, “Love me?” she gasps, his breath warm on her skin as he nips his teeth against her skin.

 

“How could I ever turn down such a request?” She giggles, actually giggles and he kisses her again, pulling them away and moving with lust filled eyes that make a heat pool in her stomach.

 

He does just as she asks, both of them landing in a heap on the large bed. Their movements are frantic and frenzied, desperate to expose the other as they remember nights with their skin pressed into shag carpet, their limbs itchy against the old furniture in his mother’s basement. He thinks of their college days, nights in the backseat of the old car and mornings in their first home. It ignites him inside, fuels his passion and allows his love for her to blaze. He takes her apart, breaking her into a mess of moans, desperate pleas of more and muffled screams of passion into the pillow so as not to alert the tiny ears of their children. Misha puts her back together, drowning her in kisses and praise before doing it again, drawing her passion out of her to bring light to the weary parts of his soul when she is away from him.

 

He proves his love through every touch, every kiss as she confirms hers, reassures him through every grip of her hands, the scrape of her nails and the way she calls only his name. Only for him. She is his queen, and he is her king. They'll always play the chess board and obstacles they face together. He is nothing without her, exposed and vulnerable. She gives him strength, bravery. Without her he is once again Dmitri and Misha fades away. He takes her with everything he can, the power of his muscles, the love within his heart, and the passion in his soul. He only loves her this way, gives her his everything. He has loved others, but none of them like her, he never will.

 

They collapse together, spent and blissful as Misha tries to catch his breath, his heart pounding wildly like a stallion. She curls into him, floating in her orgasmic bliss, kissing him till he calms, till he comes back from his release. Misha sinks into the mattress, taking in the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. He holds her tightly.

 

“What will happen when I cannot love you like when we were young anymore?” he asks in a hushed tone, voice carrying around them as she strokes his face. She ponders his question, admiring the beard against his skin, stroking the laugh lines in his skin and loving every single one, favoring the ones around his eyes. The ones that make him so handsome.

 

She smiles, “Then I will have to start over, find a new way to express my love. I swear it, everyday, that I will do such a thing long after our physical bliss is gone. I love you.”  

 

He brings her down to kiss her lips another time, savoring it as he brushes her hair away from her beautiful eyes. Against her lips, his voice is breathless, “I look forward to such a thing and to return the favor. I love you, too, sweetheart. Always.”

 

“Forever.” she murmurs against him, and Misha pulls her under again.

 

*******

They’re tangled in the sheets, having hardly slept before the first warm rays of sun heat their skin. The bed sinks, the shift obvious as a pair of blue eyes stare down at her father. He wrinkles his nose as she covers his mouth playfully, “Daddy…hungry.” Vicki chuckles into his neck where she’s buried her face.

 

“Young at heart,” he mutters, “but definitely too old for teenage romping around and children who have yet to learn that dawn doesn’t mean they must be awake.”

 

Vicki laughs as they kiss again, his fingers in the back of her hair as he deepens it. He’s almost forgotten the presence of Maison when he hears West shuffle in loudly, exclaiming, “Yuck.”

 

Misha sighs. They pull away from one another, both laughing softly, as he ruffles West’s hair.

 

There’s no place like home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
